


Domestic Hawksilver

by barns_bucky



Series: Tumblr Inspired [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:39:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4934500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barns_bucky/pseuds/barns_bucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Notes:<br/>Butterbrots: “A kind of sandwich made of a single slice of bread and one topping such as butter or ham”<br/>Kasha: “A type of porridge made from different grains”<br/>Tvorog: “Similar to cottage cheese”<br/>** I know that Pietro is Sokovian, not Russian, but shhh.<br/>Going with that: some Russians left Russia for Sokovia and that’s how they got all their foods (obvi there’s a bit of mingling going on) & accent. idek just… rUSSIANS WERE SOMEHOW INVOLVED bc Dan is a lazy fucker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Hawksilver

**Pietro’s POV**

It was their first day off since the whole Ultron thing and Pietro couldn’t have been happier. “Pietro!” Never mind. He pressed his face into the pillow, eyes squeezing shut as tight as they’d go as he heard Clint’s voice echo through their apartment.

“I’m asleep!” He dared to shift his face and crack his eye open as the door creaked open, and what he saw in the doorway didn’t make him happy. A small frown weaseled its way onto his face as he saw Clint leaned up against the doorway with a just-visible smile.  
“You look asleep.”  
“I  _was_  asleep until  _you_  decided to go wake me up _._ ” The younger man pressed his face back into the pillow, attempting to get back to sleep.  
“I’m sorry.”  
“You should be.”

**Clint’s POV**

Let’s be honest: Pietro was a total child. All. The. Damn. Time. A muffled sigh left the younger man as Clint slowly eased onto the bed, creating a slight dip in the worn mattress.

“Since you’re already awake, why don’t we eat breakfast?” I made your favorite.”  
”I  _want_ to sleep, not eat or are you deaf?” Clint watched as the younger man’s mouth twisted into a frown as he realized just what he had said. “I’m sorry, Clint.” For once - in the time that he’d known him - Pietro looked apologetic and not that fake apologetic when you’re forced to apologize to someone.  
A small smile worked its way onto Clint’s face. “It’s fine, Pietro. It’s easy to forget and you aren’t the first.”  
Relief washed over Pietro’s face and before Clint could say anything, the other had pulled him into a hug. It honestly surprised the hell out of Clint but he didn’t shove the other away.  
“Anyway… I made your favorite for breakfast… sure you don’t want to join me?”  
The speedster jerked away, a smile lighting up his face. “You made kasha, tvorog, and butterbrots?”

“Yes, I made all of them.” The archer leaned in to press a light, and promising, kiss to the younger’s lips. “Just for you.” Before he had any time to do, or say, anything else, Pietro was already out of the room. Laughing, Clint slid out of the bed and followed the younger at a much slower pace.

By the time he had arrived at the kitchen table, Pietro had already devoured the butterbrots and was slurping the kasha. “I swear.. you don’t know the meaning of slow for anything,” and it was true. Pietro did everything in the fast lane and yeah, sometimes it got on Clint’s very last nerve.  
“Sorry,” the word came out muffled due to the fact that the other’s mouth was currently crammed full with tvorog.  
The archer quirked an eyebrow before picking up his spoon and slowly - he deliberately went as slow as he could stand - put the porridge-filled spoon into his mouth.  
“Fuck you.”  
“You did.” Clint watched as Pietro’s jaw fell open in a “what the fuck” kind of way. “What, you didn’t see that coming?” A laugh escaped the older as Pietro looked even more horrified, probably due to the fact that Clint was slowly taking over his catchphrase.  
“Go fuck yourself.”  
“Been there, done that, didn’t agree with me.” A small smile worked its way onto Clint’s face as he took a bite out of his butterbrots.  
“I think you purposely try to piss me off.”  
“Try? There’s no trying, you’re easy to anger.”  
“Whatever.”  
“It’s true and you know it, Pietro.”


End file.
